Angel Slayer
by Kraven Ergeist
Summary: This is the story of an exorcist. Not one like Constantine who does the bidding of God. No, this exorcist takes orders from the Devil himself...
1. Prologue

**Constantine Fan Fiction**

**Angel Slayer**

By Kraven Ergeist

Prologue: The Left Hand Man

Everyone talks about how great God is and how evil the Devil is. Everyone prays to God in fear of being taken by the Devil. Everyone blindly sides with God, thinking that He is the only one who can be trusted. Well, let me be the first to tell you that God is far from perfect. He's just the lesser of two evils.

My name is Alexander Locke, and I'm an exorcist. Not the kind that everyone hears about who removes demons from innocent human beings. No, balance has always been maintained between God and the Devil, and it's not always the Devil who oversteps his boundaries.

They call me the Angel Slayer, because it's basically what I do. I'm less favored by many, because it's always the good individuals I have to kill. When a little girl goes into a raving lunacy and starts clinging to walls, that when God's Right Hands step up and saves the day. My job, you see, is much dirtier. Just as in physics, everything that God does has an equal and opposite reaction. What I do is I remove excess positive doers, the half breed angels who try to help too much, who try to push the limit, making people rely on them too much to do good that is already in there hearts.

You cannot believe how hard it is to kill an angel.

Oh, they're easy enough to eradicate, that's not the issue. What's hard is living with yourself after you've done what you've done. Imagine killing a sacred being, knowing that you had to, but at the same time, knowing that you were committing a crime that any church would have you banished or burned for.

What's worse is that most of the time, my prey doesn't fight back. They simply stand there with their wings drooped in submission, as I slice off their heads with my unholy blade. They know that balance must be maintained. They know that, when God orders them to do what they do, they are risking my justice. They don't have to like it. And neither do I.

Others were hell-bent, so to speak, on making saints out of individuals without letting go. Philanthropists, environmentalists, Peace Corps, even foster parents; most if not all human beings who dedicate their lives to bettering the human race have been doing so under the unconscious influence of angelic half-breeds. Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., even JFK, most historical figures who have had a positive impact on humanity were half-breed angels.

Not convinced? Then notice how all three of the above were conveniently assassinated.

All orchestrated by the Devil's exorcists.

Fortunately, none were my doing. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I had erased people like that from history. But still, I had been made to kill off angelic half-breeds who were just like them.

The first year, I would look each angel in the eye and cry every time I erased their life. Then, the next year, I would apologize. Then, I'd say, "Nothing personal, it's my job." Then, finally, nothing at all.

I used to try as hard as I could to catch an angel in the act. To stop them before they committed their crime, and let them off with a warning. Now, I just wait for it to happen.

Nothing personal, it's my job.

Then a dull "thwack." And they're gone.

Nowadays, I was as bitter as a soldier who comes home from a bloody war. He lives his life and goes through the motions, but in his mind, he's still fighting the war. Only this soldier still actually is fighting the war. A war that most people don't even know about, that most people, if they did know about it, would fight to their last breath to stop me.

Because who wouldn't want a guardian angel over their shoulder at all times, helping them make the right choice? Who wouldn't want to be at the right place at the right time, and never make a single mistake for the rest of their lives?

Turns out the world doesn't work that way, and the Devil has as much of a stake in this world as He does, and he's not going to just sit by while angels continually deny him new inmates.

How do I justify myself, you ask? How do I live with myself after doing such horrible things? I find that it's easiest to believe that human beings need to make choices on their own. It's up the people, not angels, but people, to make the world a better place. They couldn't ride with training wheels their whole life. If there was an angel trying to help too much, that angel had to be destroyed as much as any demon trying to coerce a sinner.

And that's where I came in.

The Devil's Exorcist.

The Left Hand Man.

The Angel Slayer.

A/N: Well, I guess I think I'll stick with this character I created. I'll be introducing a lot of new characters in this fic, but don't worry. The chars from the movie will arrive shortly.


	2. Chapter One

**Constantine Fan Fiction**

**Angel Slayer**

By Kraven Ergeist

Chapter One: Brooding.

I heard recently that my boss's son just got denied access to Earth. Big whoop. If he had, my job would have been right out the window. Of course, then everyone would have to deal with fire and brimstone around every street corner, but hey, I was more used to it than most.

I sat at my table, staring at my weapon, an unholy blade. It had the appearance of a thin sword, coated with a thick black tar-like substance. That substance, which never stopped seeping from the pores of the cursed steel, corroded through human flesh as painfully as an Angel's.

Home for me is an abandoned subway station that had been conveniently unfilled by cement. Not much to work with in terms of interior decorating, but there was plenty of room. With what earnings I could scrounge through the occult black market, I had fashioned a livable area out of what I could find. A fridge chocked full of old pizza and Chinese takeout, a bathroom with almost a fifty percent chance of actually receiving ground water, and sometimes even hot water if I was lucky, and a decent place to sleep that almost blocked out the constant rumbling of trains passing nearby at all hours.

I groaned, fiddling with the inverted pentagram around my neck. I hadn't gotten a call from Maleficent in weeks. Ever since Satan's son got withheld from our plane, the underworld has been in an uproar. It turns out the Devil's son had quite a following.

I got up, bedraggled. I was restless, and Maleficent would know where to find me.

I grabbed my coat, and headed out.

xxxxx

Papa Midnight's was popular between Angel and Demon half-breeds alike. As a neutral haven, it was the one place I could find solace among those I killed. I had heard that exorcists on both God and the Devil's side were born with the same power. It was simply a matter of who claimed them first. In my case…well, it was pretty obvious who found me first.

I looked around and saw the looks that the Angel half-breeds gave me, some with fear, some loathing, and some understanding. Here, I was as powerless to hurt them as they I. But that didn't mean that they had to like me.

I sighed, heading over to the bar, giving the tender a nod.

Jerry. A small man who didn't stand out, Jerry was perhaps the only human aside from the bouncer.

"What'll it be, Locke?"

"Bloody Mary," I muttered. "And make it a double."

He put the red drink in front of me, and I took a sip. I stared around at the company.

This side of the bar was mostly populated by demon folk. My eyes fell on a succubus, who was gingerly sipping a drink of God knows what concoction. She saw me and smiled; all succubae know not to scour the Devil's exorcists. But that didn't mean they couldn't have a little fun.

She got up and strutted over to me, her hips gyrating with painfully slow agitation. Although her face looked as innocent and pure as the driven snow, I knew all too well that what lay underneath was a demonic temptress of biblical proportions.

"Hey," she cooed at me, sliding up close, letting her knee come between my legs.

I smiled back, pretending to be uninterested. I had been the plaything of this particular feasting siren for years, and this time was no different than the rest.

"You, uh…" she licked her lips. "…Off duty?"

I nodded, getting to my feet. "For the moment."

She stuck her finger in her mouth and dabbed at my lips. "Well, what do you say to a little…dance?"

I sighed, doing my best not to let her sumptuous allure consume me entirely. "Do I have a choice?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

We were on the floor before I could say anything, her backside undulating against me, burning up my insides. Her hands have seized my wrists, drawing one hand up across her front to her womanly bosom and the other between her legs.

I was about to accept the invitation, when I feel someone tapping my shoulder.

"Can I cut in?"

I gulped, losing my libido in an instant.

"Maleficent."

I released my hold on the succubus before me, and turned to face him, bowing. Maleficent was one half-breed you didn't want to piss off. Even in his human guise, his face would scare most.

"You look like you were enjoying yourself, Xander" Maleficent noted. "Perhaps this…isn't the best time?"

I shook my head. I knew better than to delay my master any further. "No, sir. Now is perfect."

He smiled. "Good. Now, why don't you excuse yourself so we can talk in private? Papa Midnight has let me borrow one of his studies."

I nod, glancing over to the succubus. "Sorry, Lillith…next time, okay?"

Lillith blew me a kiss. "I'll be waiting."

I smiled as I watched her leave. There were whispers that of all the exorcists she had ever made into her pets, I was her favorite. Of course, I knew better than to blindly believe such claims.

I turned back to Maleficent and followed him to the private study near where Papa Midnight himself worked. Here, the smoke and light and noise were much less invasive.

Maleficent walked around the office, evidently hiding something within himself. "You're probably wondering why we haven't employed your services lately, hmm?"

I knew of course the reason, but I also knew better than to question him. "Yeah."

He turned to me and smiled. "No you haven't. The word's spread from here to the stars. Satan's little brat, you know?"

I nodded. "Oh yeah…_that_."

"Well, things are back on track, so on to business," Maleficent smiled before handing me a newspaper. "Here's the scoop: It's mid-March, right? Counting down for Earth Day, biggest grab bag of tree hugging, animal loving nature nuts this plane can muster. So I'm thinking, we need someone on active duty."

I nodded. "I was fully expecting you to have me doing _something_ on the 20th."

Maleficent grabbed my collar and pressed his face right up to mine. "Never assume anything, kid!" he hissed. "As soon as you do, you lose."

I shivered as his cold, toxic breath swallowed me. "Y…yes sir."

Maleficent nodded, pointing to an article in the paper. "All right, here: local news, some big shot millionaire is donating half a million dollars to the nature center."

I nodded. "You…think a half-breed's behind it?"

Maleficent smiled. "Don't have to think; look here:"

He points to a blurry face in the picture above the article.

"Now, even though you got the sight, I'm sure you can't see this: Standing _right beside_ the guy is a half-breed. But not just any half-breed. This is Michael himself."

I blinked. "Michael? You mean…_the_ Michael?"

Maleficent nodded. "Oh yeah."

I frowned. "Sir, do you really think I can take someone like that? I mean…he's _Michael_!"

Maleficent takes me by the shoulder and I feel the temperature in my body decrease once more. "Now, listen kid, you got two options: You can either go after this guy, or you can die and go to hell right here and right now. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

I nodded, grudgingly. Like coercion was really necessary. I'd go after the half-breed either way.

"Good," Maleficent said, letting me go. "Now, you go on and have fun with your little wench. If you need me, you know where to find me."

I shuddered as I watch him leave. I stand for a few moments regaining myself. Talking with Maleficent was always a draining experience.

I stepped back out into the bar. Lillith had probably found a virgin to consume by now. I didn't feel like playing with her right now anyway.

I stumble back to my seat as Jerry gives me a raised eyebrow. "Maleficent finally give you another assignment?"

I nod, suddenly. "Yeah…he sent me after Michael."

Jerry blinked. "You're kidding? Michael? Did he at least give you anything to fight him with?"

I shook my head, drinking deeply from the drink I had left earlier. "Nope. Just the usual."

"That son of a bitch," Jerry muttered.

"Son of a succubus, actually," I corrected. "Though, if you call him on it, it'll be the last thing you do."

Jerry smiled. "I'll keep that in mind. Anyway, he really didn't give you anything to work with?"

I shook my head. "He gave me everything he said I'd need years ago. Unholy blade, putrid water, dark cloak, inverted pentagram…"

Jerry shakes his head. "Well…since you're a regular here, what say I point in the right direction to get some real wares?"

I look up from my drink. "What kind of wares?"

Jerry leaned over the table and whispered in my ear.

"You're kidding!" I say back. "Can you actually get stuff like that?"

Jerry shrugged. "No, but I know a guy who can."

I practically fling myself over the table. "Jerry, you are a God sent!"

Jerry smiled. "I'll take that at face value."

I sit back with relief. "I owe you big time, Jerry. Tell you what – if I live through this, I'll fix you up with one of these lovely ladies here." I gestured over to a group of succubae, currently amidst in devouring some poor soul.

Jerry blinked. "Scour free?"

I nodded. "Scour free."

Jerry smiled. "Locke, I'd say this is the start of a beautiful friendship."


	3. Chapter Two

**Constantine Fan Fiction**

**Angel Slayer**

By Kraven Ergeist

Chapter Two: A Glimpse of Heaven

By the time I got home, I was ready to collapse. I sat at my table and guzzled down half a carton of milk, before downing a yogurt cup along with a vitamin pill. When you live your life knowing that you have zero chance to get to heaven when you die, you do what you can to postpone the inevitable fire and brimstone.

Plus, the yogurt upped my blood sugar, a much-needed reprieve after being the breathed on by a demon half-breed.

I then proceeded to crash on my bed, a futon salvaged from a dumpster downtown, which I purified it with some holy water I got from the occult black market. Hey, just because I'm the Devil's exorcist doesn't mean I can't use heavenly materials.

Anyway, I fell fast asleep, only to be plagued by nightmarish images of the angelic presences that I've slain. You think killing another human who comes back to haunt you is bad? Try killing a half-breed. The dreams were ceaseless, because the angels physically invade your mind in order to place them there. I never passed a night without them.

I had gotten used to them over the years, tried to ignore them. But this one was different.

It wasn't the angelic being slain in this dream. It was myself.

I woke up sweating. The angel in my dream had to have been Michael. The holy half-breeds must have been trying to tell me what the inevitable outcome of the battle would be.

I caught my breath, recovering from the abnormal apparition. A moment later, I saw the real apparition.

I sighed. "What do you want, Mariah?"

Before me sat an Angel half-breed of crimson hair, her gray wings in full plumage, no doubt in hopes of catching my attention.

"I just felt like paying a visit," she mused, halfheartedly.

"I highly doubt that," I shrug, hauling myself up from the futon. I was finished with sleep.

"Oh…you're right, Xander," Mariah smiled, coyly. "I came here to get a piece of the action. Rumor has it that you're Lillith's favorite chew toy. She may be a demon, but you can't have won her favor for nothing."

I snuffed. "Lillith? You getting your panties in a bunch over a _succubus_?"

Mariah stood before be, stoutly. "The _mother of all succubae_, yes, I think she dangerous."

I laughed, sarcastically. "Really? Get back to me when your a hundred percent sure."

Mariah glared at me. "I mean it, Xander. She may act all peaches and cream, but she is of the nether world. Those of the Devil always, _always_, have ulterior motives, and it's usually about one thing. If she has you in her thrall, then that makes her one exorcist more powerful than she already is."

I shrugged her off. "Like she needs any more power than she already has? Besides, what worth is one exorcist to her?"

That's when Mariah seized me. "I don't want you getting hurt, Xander!"

"And why the hell are you worried about me? I deport your kind all the time! I'm just a killer to you!"

Mariah stared back at me hard, but I could see what I'd said had hurt her. "I'm not one of your desperate angels, Xander. I follow the rules."

I sighed, deeply. "Look…it's touching that you want to be my guardian angel. But the kind of stuff I see…the kind of stuff I do…getting scoured by a succubus is the least of my worries."

Mariah looked crestfallen after I said that, and I felt like a jerk.

"Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll be more careful around her, ok?"

Mariah looked up, shaking her head. "No, you were right, there are things much more dangerous in store you for you than that carnivorous siren."

She looked really serious when she said that, more than she ever was.

"Mariah, what are you talking about?"

Mariah looks at me, her face sad all over again. "I've seen your fate, Xander…you will die fighting Michael."

Now, here's the thing about fate: It's never written in stone. Except when it was. And Angels, even angel half-breeds, are _very_ good at telling the difference.

I sat back down. "You're positive about this?"

Mariah shook her head. "Actually, it's had me down in the dumps all evening."

That scared me more than anything.

"Xander, you can't fight Michael! He'll kill you!"

I sighed. "I wasn't exactly itching to fight him, you know? I have orders, and it's not like I just skip town."

Mariah shook her head, her fiery red locks swirling as she did. "Why would they send you, a human exorcist, to deal with one of Heaven's most powerful half-breeds? It's a suicide mission! They're trying to get rid of you, Xander!"

I throw my body back onto the futon. "Great. Now _both_ sides want me dead! That certainly helps!"

Mariah kneeled next to my prone form. "Listen, Xander…there isn't much time. I can get you out of this."

I raised an eyebrow. "How, exactly?"

Mariah paused. "I…uh…I'll…think of something…"

I sighed. "Uh-huh. Any chance you could persuade Michael to convince this philanthropist to repeal the donation he's making?"

Mariah shook her head; tear droplets shaking from her eyes. I couldn't stop staring at the tears fall, as the purest of holy water splashed and sizzled like oil in a skillet on the tainted floor of my room – I had since coated the entire place in putrid water to sap the angelic of their powers. Right now, Mariah was as helpless as a human.

I tried not to read too deeply into the tears. After all, angel cared for all beings in general.

"No," she muttered. "Even if I could, your orders would still be the same. Hell's had their eye on your guy for some time now, and they were just waiting for his inspiration to show itself."

I nodded. "Which he did. It even appeared in the newspaper."

Mariah blinked.

"Mariah, think back: in all the years of half breeds persuading humans one way or the other, how many have been stupid enough to appear on the front page?"

Mariah blinked again. "You mean, aside from the martyrs of society? JFK and the lot?"

I shook my head. "Their methods involved public inspiration. Heaven's gotten smarter since then. There hasn't been an angel since who's revealed themselves so publicly. So why would Michael just allow himself to be photographed like that? Moreover, of the dozens of pictures the newspaper had to use for this big shindig, they had to use one that just happened to feature him. It's not like he was the focal point of the story, the philanthropist was. Michael just _happened_ to be in it."

Mariah frowned. "You don't think Michael intended to do so just to set you up, do you?"

I shook my head. "I doubt I'm of that much consequence to him. But he definitely allowed himself to be seen for a reason. The question is: what reason?"

Mariah nodded. "I'll look into it."

I smiled. "Be quick. I only have about a week and a half tops before Maleficent starts to wonder why I haven't gone after my target."

Mariah frowned. "I will. Stay safe for me, okay Xander?"

I smiled back. "It'll depend on my mood. I _might_ be more inclined…if you were serious about getting a 'piece of the action' as you called it."

Mariah laughed. Actually laughed, which was a good sign, given the circumstances. Not to mention, her laughter was just beautiful beyond imagination.

"I'm an _angel_, Xander," was all she said.

And then, she was gone.

I sighed, cracking my neck and preparing for the next day. I was planning to meet up with Jerry's little supplier that day. Whether or not Mariah knew about it was anyone's guess.

"But even an Angel can be wrong some of the time…" I muttered, before strapping my unholy blade onto my back.


	4. Chapter Three

**Constantine Fan Fiction**

**Angel Slayer**

By Kraven Ergeist

Chapter Three: Stranger

I heard a sound and, in a flash of motion brought on by years of experience, I drew my unholy blade and brought it up just in time to stare down the golden muzzle of a cross shaped shotgun.

I smiled. "John Constantine…"

The man in black stared back at me. "Alexander Locke…"

If you had to guess what kind of day job an Angel like Michael kept, what would you guess? I bet your first guess would be a doctor, huh? Or a soldier, maybe? Someone in a position to help people. You'd never guess, but if you dialed 0 on any phone within a 15-block perimeter, you had a one in five chance of actually speaking with him.

That's right – he's a telephone operator. What better way to "accidentally" put people in touch with exactly who they need, even when they asked for someone else? Many a lost soul has been diverted to a help session, charity group, hokey psychic - and yes, even the church – because of him. Michael can look into people's minds, lives, pasts and futures, and put them into contact with just the right person, or even prevent them from contacting the wrong person at the wrong time.

A good guy, all in all. It was a pretty good loophole. He played by the rules, as far as I knew. Guess Maleficent saw different. That's all I needed. Not that I had any real grudge against the guy. I was all for the do-gooders. Ask not what your country can do for you and whatnot. But what the boss says goes, and I wasn't going to try to see if he meant good on his death threats.

So, there I was, armed and dangerous, snooping through Michael's office desk, when who should show up but God's Right Hand Man himself?

I think that's about where we left off.

"So…gonna tell me why you're here, knee deep in phone company paperwork?" Constantine asked, smartly.

"Just trying to get a few answers," I replied. It was hard to think of a witty retort when there's a holy weapon inches from your face. To be honest, I don't know how Constantine does it, what with my sword at his neck.

"You shouldn't be here," Constantine sighed, cutting to business. "Michael's not your problem."

"He is when he pisses off my boss," I sighed. I made sure let my displeasure of the job show. If Constantine noticed, he didn't let on.

"Michael's a good boy," Constantine frowned. "I checked – he's too important to blow on some mission that Hell might whack him for."

"I didn't expect you to know anything," I sneered. "You holy men only know what God wants you to know."

"The same is true for you," Constantine shot back.

"I'm here on my own accord," I shook my head. "But anyway, haven't you heard? It's been all over the papers – Mike's stepped over the lines, Constantine. Not by much, but it's enough for Hell to put him down without risking indictment."

"Yeah," Constantine smirked. "Getting a guy with a golden heart to make _another_ donation? That's just treacherous."

I shrugged. "You know what they say: The difference between a reformed criminal and a philanthropist is that the criminal steals a million and gives it all back and a-"

"-And a philanthropist steals a million and gives half back, I know the joke," Constantine sighed. But he put his gun down.

I lowered my sword.

"Come on, Locke," Constantine shook his head. "Even _if_ Hell got a clear hit on Michael, you think _you'd_ be able to take him? I've seen the guy take down a whole army of soldier demons just like that!"

"It's not exactly something I'm looking forward to," I nodded. "I think Hell put me up to this as a suicide mission."

"So, what are you doing here then?" Constantine asked.

"Thing is, half-breeds never show up in papers," I huffed, pacing around the little office block. "It's just not smart. And here's Michael, strutting his stuff all over the front page."

Constantine nodded, the pieces falling into place in his head. "I see. You're looking to see if he's got some kind of agenda?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't everybody?"

Constantine nodded. "Well, good luck with that, Locke. It's been a nice chat, but I'm afraid I can't just let you snoop around an angel's office, so-"

He raised his gun a micro second after I raised my sword.

Neither of us moved for a while.

I chuckled. "Come on, Constantine," I whined. "I don't want to fight you. If I lose, I've only got one place to go!"

"My heart cries out for you," Constantine smirked.

"Look, all I want to do is look around," I sighed. "That's all. All I need is five minutes, I swear. You can even play chaperone if it makes you feel better."

Constantine shook his head. "It's not happening, Locke."

I smiled. "Alright, man…I didn't want to do this, but it's your call…"

We both moved. His move was to pull the trigger, which would have blown my head off…if my move weren't to knock the gun away from his grasp. In the next instant, we were squared off, the other exorcist donning a pair of golden cross knuckles.

"I wouldn't recommend facing me in hand-to-hand combat," I warned. As a fellow exorcist, it only seemed fair. "I'm smothered in putrid water. It'll burn through your flesh as fast as it comes."

Constantine didn't respond. Instead, he darted towards me, narrowly avoiding the tip of my blade, before smacking my chest with the palm of his hand. I feel something shatter, and stare down as the front of my shirt starts smoking, as some shards of glass fly everywhere.

"Well, that takes care of that," Constantine smiled, before ducking beneath another swipe of my blade.

The bastard just smashed an ampoule of holy water on me!

Somehow, he outmaneuvered my unholy blade long enough to kick my legs out from under me. I fell on my back, staring up at him bringing his golden fist down on me, and I grabbed the inverted pentagram around my neck and a let out a litany of curse words – real curse words, as they would be.

Constantine went flying backwards, as the stream of hell speak diminished on my tongue. He leapt back up, his golden gun now back in hand, only to face nothingness.

I was hidden in the shadows, invisible with my dark cloak, even to those with the sight. I watched him poke around – he could still feel my presence, but he couldn't isolate it. I would have to retreat for now.

"God, I could use a cigarette right about now," I hear him mutter.

Then I was gone.

xxxxx

I paced nervously back and forth atop the stadium. The lights shone down brightly across the empty field, and the night air chilled me to the bone.

My contact was supposed to be here by now. Jerry had set up a meeting with a dealer of unholy items – real serious ones, too. Stuff you couldn't find just anywhere.

Petrified demon hairs that could be crushed into a fine powder and used to block out any source of light – which was the source of an angel's power. Summoning charms that could unleash hordes of wing wraiths. Smoke grenades that could choke an angel to death.

And my personal favorite: vials of Satan's unholy seed – instant death when it touches any angel, human, and even some demon's flesh. On the market, it's known as "Sour Milk." I didn't have the foggiest idea how anyone could hope to get a hold of stuff like that. I wasn't particularly inclined to ask.

"You're late."

The man who approached me had a limp to his step, flinched when he moved, and had an oddly colored eye.

"Apologies," he croaked. "You'll understand how someone in my line of worked can get…tied up."

I nodded. "You're Finster?"

"On a good day," the man spoke. "I hear you're in the market for some shnozz?"

I forced myself not to gag. "Got a real tough job ahead of me. I just had a run in with John Constantine himself. I'm gonna need all the help I get."

Finster flinched. "Constantine? I thought he was on his way down?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, well, apparently the boss had other plans. Now have you got the seed or not?"

The rickety old man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a vial the size of a golf tee. I reached for it, but he pulled his hand away instantly.

"Nah-ah-ah…how much you got?"

I sighed and reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out three golden coins. Aztec gold, each was worth a fortune for a curse that was supposedly placed on them long ago. It had taken me months to obtain them.

"How much will this get me?"

He snatched the gold away, sniffing each of them, satisfied that they were the genuine articles.

He flinched his face back towards me. It crept me out the way he did that.

"Two vials of shnozz and a belt of smoke bombs to sweeten the deal."

I nodded, holding out my hand slowly. "Deal."

He tucked the coins away in his pocket, before producing two vials of the same nasty yellow froth that would contaminate the very soul of whoever touched it. He placed them gingerly in my fist, and quickly wrapped them in a handkerchief, and tucked them away safely in my pocket.

He open one side of his jacket and removed a belt of black…things from a hook. He didn't give me a chance to see what else he had in that coat of his.

He handed me the belt and winked his odd eye at me. "Pleasure doing business with you. I hope whatever job you've got in mind finds you successful – I look forward to many more transactions in the future."

I sniffed. "Go to hell."

He simply chuckled. "Oh, I plan to…"


End file.
